Everything You Think You Know
by electricguitarismylife9876543
Summary: Everything you think you know is wrong. This is what really happened at the Yule Ball.


**Alright people – I haven't submitted a story in G-d knows when so I probably will be a little off track…**

**Ok ok, jeez!!! A lot off track. Yeah yeah sue me why don't you?! (Please don't!!!)**

**Disclaimer – J.K Rowling has ignored my pleas for her to adopt me *sniffle* so I don't own anything. (Evil grin) YET!!!**

She was standing there, alone.

"I don't actually believe this," she muttered, glowering around the room. At Seamus, at Parvati, at Seamus again – who looked surprised at such a hostile glare; but was swept away by Lavender. She was dateless, as Viktor had left with Karkaroff. Ron and Harry had abandoned her on the stairs, and she was left, standing there like an idiot gaping around at everyone having the time of their lives.

Not to mention the slight tears sliding down her pale cheeks.

She stomped off, hurting her feet in her heels as she went. Throwing herself in a chair with a growl next to Fred Weasley; who took one look at her furious (albeit pretty) face and practically shot off onto the dance floor, hurling a protesting Angelina with him. George, hoping to pacify her with the "Weasley charm", winked at her cheekily.

"Bog off George; I am seriously not in the mood," she sighed.

"Why, Miss Granger. Language!" tutted George, grinning. "I'm shocked!"

"Traumatized," whispered Fred from the dance floor as he spun his partner around, failing to see some girl from Beauxbatons and almost smashing into her.

"Stunned"

"Staggered."

"Disgraced."

"Mortified."

"Oh shut up, both of you!" She stood up and stalked off, leaving the twins sniggering to themselves and watching her go.

Threading between a sea of twirling robes, she exited the ball and went out into the night. A sudden breeze hit her, and she rolled her eyes at her stupidity – floaty robes and freezing temperatures did not work. She made a mental note to get some kind of wrap next time. Breathing hard through her nose, she contemplated the hexes she might throw at Ron if she really had to. Or Harry. Actually, no. Just Ron.

And then she remembered: She. Magic. Wand, wrap. No cold. Yay!

"Right…" she sighed as she conjured up a periwinkle blue shrug. She scoffed as she watched Roger Davies and Fleur Delacour giggle and stumble through the bushes, making the fairies in them tumble out onto the grass. She turned away from the balcony and leant against it.

"Fraternizing with the enemy! Of course, only Ronald could come up with such a ridiculous conclusion. The enemy! Harry understood perfectly but no, not him, Mr. I-have-a-picture-of-Krum-on-my-wall-but-no,-you-can't-dance-with-him." She gazed into the ball, where she could just about see Neville and Ginny tripping along the floor. "Who does he think he is?" she suddenly burst out, her forehead going slightly red with the agitation. "Who does he think I am?"

"Well, Granger," a voice drawled behind her, "That ginger weasel may have no idea what you are, but I certainly do." It drew closer. "A filthy, pathetic mudblood. That's what."

She turned around. And there he stood. Wedged between his two hulking bodyguards.

"Crab," she acknowledged with a slight nod. "Boil," she glanced at the other, who had just caught on that she was insulting them. Her eyes lingered on the one in the middle.

"Ferret."

He scowled. "The name is Malfoy."

"The name is Ferret Boy," she smirked at the look on his pointed face. He stepped back a little.

"Seriously Granger, I thought even bucktoothed walruses brush their teeth. Or at least use some mouthwash," he sneered as he looked her up and down. "Pining for your weasel? Ronnikins darling, I love you I love you," he put on a high pitched voice, clasping his hands together and swooning into Goyle's tree trunk arms.

"Oh you're hilarious Malfoy. Now, why don't you go and snog Pansy senseless or chase a stick, or whatever it is you do for fun." She said sarcastically, and then turned away.

Silence. And then…footsteps strode away back into the school. She frowned. Well that was easy.

Too easy.

"Still here, Granger," he pointed out helpfully. She turned once more, and looked at him scornfully.

He was leaning against a pillar, hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. The light of the moon leaped onto his blond hair, making it shine. His grey eyes were narrow in his chiseled face, and his pointed chin was stuck out defiantly. His shirt was unbuttoned down to the beginning of his chest.

He looked at her. At her modest attire, which quietly showed her slender body. At her sleek hair tied in a topknot. At her makeup less face, save for a swipe of gloss.

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.

"That the best you could do, Granger? You really thought that some fancy dress could make Weasley fall for you. Stupider than I thought." He laughed derisively.

She smiled mockingly. "At least I look better than that silly cow of a girlfriend that you have."

He coloured slightly, whether from anger or humiliation she could not tell. "For your information, Pansy is not my girlfriend. Why, do you care, mudblood?"

"Why don't you?" she shot back angrily, tossing her head.

His eyes flashed, and he took a step closer. She backed away instinctively. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously quiet and even.

"I have better things to do with my evening than speak to some disgusting mudblood." He said, quite normally. He took another step towards her.

She took one back, until she felt the firm cool marble behind her. She scrambled in the folds of her dress desperately for her wand. Drawing it out, she held it unwavering under his chin. He stopped suddenly.

"Like last year," he said, referring to when she had punched him.

Huh. She had forgotten about that. A slight smile played with her lips as she remembered.

But then she felt something pointy under her chin.

"Are you afraid?" he asked.

"No," she answered. She could see the flecks of black in his eyes, the tiny pores of his porcelain skin. He stared at her. Her breathing had quickened, and she was flushing pink. He leaned down slowly and whispered in her ear, not removing his wand from her throat,

"You should be."

She raised one eyebrow, and then squeaked as he swiftly brought his face closer.

"I think you are." He said quietly.

She laughed. He sneered in return.

Suddenly, he pressed her to him in irritation. His large hand was in the small of her back, long fingers digging into her flesh. He pushed the wand harder into her. She did the same, placing one hand on his shoulder to support herself.

He was enjoying himself so much, he didn't even care that she had touched him.

She reached up; noting that he was much taller than what she had remembered, and, with a sudden spurt of mischief and recklessness, put her mouth to his ear. A mild scent of fresh grass and parchment flowed over him. He immediately stiffened.

Her lips grazed his ear, and he shivered unconsciously.

"Everything you think you know is wrong," she whispered softly. He could feel her smiling against his skin. Her figure was flush against his. He could feel that she fit into the curves of his chest.

She slowly returned herself down. Her body was still pressed to his. They could feel one another's heart beating. Bloodlines vanished, mud and pure mixing together.

For a moment they just looked at each other, all the unspoken things that they knew they would never say were in their eyes. All the hatred, the rage and the lust.

Eventually he released her. Stupidly his arms were still circling her waist, as if she was to return into his arms.

He composed himself and dropped them.

She turned away and made to go back inside to the ball. An arm shot out and grabbed her, forcing her to turn back into him.

"Not a word to anyone else, understand? If you speak I'll make you pay." He said through gritted teeth.

She looked confused.

"A word of what? Really Malfoy, I don't have a clue on what you're babbling on about. And if you'll excuse me, I would like to return to the ball. I think Viktor might have returned." She replied innocently, a small cunning glint in her eye.

And with that, she turned on her heel and departed from him. At the last moment, she looked back at him. He was leaning against a pillar, hands in his pockets staring back at her.

Good. Nothing had changed.


End file.
